


You're making magic, oh dear lord.

by LucifersHitman



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Bottom Stiles, Claiming, Confessions, Future Fic, Knotting, M/M, Mage Stiles, Magic Stiles, Marking, Mates, Possessive Behavior, Tattoo Kink, Top Derek, magical self lubrication, prompt, tattood stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 01:44:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2211042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucifersHitman/pseuds/LucifersHitman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: Stiles returned after leaving for a while to learn to control his magic and he is covered in tattoos that help to concentrate it. Bonus points for Derek not being able to control himself when he sees the triskele. Knotting is definitely my jam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're making magic, oh dear lord.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and find me on tumblr at thewolf-inred.tumblr.com

Derek had been a wreck since Stiles returned home from college.

His wolf was howling in his head, pacing restlessly, hackles bared and fangs snapping. Desperate for his mate.

And damn it he’d been so fucking good, letting the teen go off and meet other people and live his damn life. 

But no, no. Stiles had returned home with his hair grown out, messy and curling around his forehead. With his arms and back filled out with muscle and his movements smoother, like all that pent up energy was of use to him now, fingers moving gracefully through the air as he spoke. 

With his - his ridiculous geeky glasses and his wide smile and his ‘I missed you sourwolf’, honestly the universe hated him. 

Hated. Him.

God and don’t even get him started on the magic, after the discovery of Stiles’s spark Deaton had been eager to train him, teaching him things Derek struggled to keep up with. 

Stiles lit up with it, sang with it. Using it like a second limb and beaming as he did so. Glowing under the spells, honey browns eyes a brilliant amber. 

Derek wanted to fuck the amber right out of those eyes.

And then, as if he just had to do more, Stile’s crashed into his loft one night, kicking his shoes off at the door, ranting about ‘asshole friends ditching his ass for sex’ and digging through  _his_ fridge like he was just entitled to it! Derek stood against the door frame, watching as he bent over, tight blue shirt riding up to reveal pale, freckled skin and - 

_Fuck._

Fuck everything and everyone because that was  _ink._

Thick glorious lines, permanent in the younger-mans flesh, standing stark from his skin and dragging Derek’s eyes to where it sat on his hip. 

He must have let out a low growl because Stiles was turning, pushing those fucking glasses up his nose and dropping this crooked smile. 

"Want some, big guy?"

"You have tattoo’s?"

And … He hadn’t exactly meant to acknowledge that he’d seen, naturally of course giving away the fact that he’d been  _looking_ and - 

"Oh! Yeah I got them after Deaton explained the symbols to me! They help channel my magic. It’s really cool. Do you, do ya wanna see?"

He licked his lips as his wolf  _whined._ His head nodding, bobbing in place before he really gave it permission. 

And then Stiles was moving, fridge and food apparently forgotten in favor of edging closer, long, deft fingers working - fumbling, even- on the buttons of his shirt. 

He think he missed a step due to his brain abruptly turning off and he struggle to reach, catching at Stiles’s wrists and swallowing when wide brown doe eyes blinked up at him over thick rims. 

"Dude, I gotta take my shirt of to show you."

There was a skip, in Stiles’s heartbeat. And Derek, Derek pretended not to notice. Dragging his fingertips over Stiles’s wrist as he pulled away, smiling shyly up at the wolf as he returned to his task. 

His fangs dropped around the third button, wolf panting by the forth and by the time the shirt fell open to reveal sharp hipbones and smooth skin, taut muscles and a dark trail of hair leading down to his jeans? God Derek was practically drooling, eating Stiles alive with his eyes. 

He shivered when Stiles stepped closer, grabbing for the wolfs wrist and pulling it up letting his own rough fingertips glide over soft satin flesh. 

"This one? That’s for the pack. A wolf signifies I’m taken - b-by the pack I mean. So others don’t try and hire me."

He let out a snarl at that, baring his fangs and Stiles laughed, light and happy moving his touch from the spot above his hipbone to the star in flames above his peck, sucking in a shaky breath when Derek’s thumb ‘accidentally’ grazed his nipple. 

"Protection from demons and shit. Nasty fuckers."

He nodded, remembering the run in with the nest of them a while back, dragging his fingers soothingly over his mates collarbone as Stile’s continued his show.

Three more on his front, twisting and leaping from his skin under Derek’s gaze. He could feel their power, like a lick of electric against his skin as he touched. 

It wasn’t until Stiles turned that he sucked in a greedy breath, inhaling the sharp scent of want and home from the shorter man, licking his lips, tongue curling around his fang as his eyes locked to the triskele at Stiles’s shoulder. 

There were others, littered over Stiles’s arms and lower back, ancient tribal markings that meant nothing to him besides Stiles’s safety. 

God they looked gorgeous, a permanent mark of Stiles, a mark like he itched to make. 

"And this?" 

Wait, when did his voice get so low? Rumbling deep in his chest as his wolf prowled near the surface. 

There was a beat of silence as Stiles’s heartbeat quickened. Turning slowly under Derek’s palm to meet his gaze, chin jutted out defiantly. 

"To remind me what was worth coming home to."

He sucked in a breath, pushing himself up, tight into Stiles’s space.

He couldn’t drag his eyes away from that mouth, Stiles’s lower lip quivering as he swayed closer, flicking red rimed eyes to Stiles’s, his mates breath hot against his own lips. 

"Stiles, I-"

"Deaton explained to me, about mates. How it- How it felt to have one and I. I remember how you used to be when, when I got hurt. How you used to hover over me like a guard dog and how I felt so fucking safe with you, even when my brain told me ‘hey this dude could be a killer-‘"

They both shared a small grin at the memory and he curled his fingers over Stiles’s shoulder, dragging his claws gently over the tattoo under them. 

"-Point is I know and, and I’m really hoping you let me go ‘cause you thought in some weird way I’d be better off and not because I’m reading this wrong because otherwise I’ve been fantasizing for like 4 years for nothing and that would be totally suck-"

He cut Stiles babbling in half with a kiss. Dragging him in with one arm around his neck, hauling his mate to him. 

He fucked his way into Stiles’s mouth, no pretense of softness or sweetness in him. Years and years of built up denial boiling under his skin as he hauled Stiles up, backing them up to the kitchen table as long legs wound about his waist, eager fingers working on his jeans as one hand twisted and wove in the air before him, a flutter of gold flashing before cold air hit his skin. 

He growled low, biting at Stiles’s lower lip, dragging his cheek over and down Stiles’s unmarked neck, remedying that awful fact with hard, cheeky bites and swift bruising sucking. Licking and nuzzling his way to the anit-posession tattoo. Lapping over the lingering taste of ink, shivering when a jolt of power rose to greet him, whining as Stiles moaned. Arching up under his mouth. Glasses sliding away to land on the counter.

"Fancy trick."

"I have so- so many more, that I will show you later because right now I have years of sex to make up for and if you don’t get into me soon I am going to kick your as-"

Apparently the best thing to silence Stiles was to put something else in his mouth, stuffing two fingers past his lips and whimpering when Stiles flashed his eyes, lips curling into a smirk as a hot wet tongue lathered the digits, curling around them and sucking until he was hissing, claws grazing Stiles lower lip as he pulled them free. 

"Don’t test me, I have to open you up before I can fuck you."

"N-no you-" He bit at Stiles’s shoulder, trailing his tongue in a long swipe over one hard, perky nipple. His fingers working to unhook and tear off Stiles’s jeans, patience wearing thin.

"I’m not going to fuck you raw Stiles, you’re not - "

He blinked, his wolf grumbling, trembling in his body as his fingers pressed to Stiles’s wet, leaking hole. Feeling the way it gave under his fingers. Pushing two in deep and hard, pumping them slowly in punishment as Stiles bucked his hips up. Hard, long cock slapping against his stomach, smearing precum over the twisting lines there.

""You’re wet."

"Mmm- handy thing about magic I c-can, Oh  _fuck,_ be ready whenever you want me.”

He let out a curling snarl, eyes glowing red as he kicked himself out of his jeans, dragging his hand up and running his tongue over the sweet slick coating his fingers. Growling deep in his throat as he caught Stiles by the ankles and pulled, wrenching his thighs apart, bracing himself over him. Lips close to his mates, smirking when Stiles tilted his head, chasing them eagerly. 

"Like a bitch in heat for me, already leaking and open, just ready for my cock, aren’t you?"

And he snorted when Stiles whined something about ‘gonna die’ palming his throbbing, leaking cock. Guiding the tip to Stiles’s spazming rim, tracing teasing circles with it and grinning, all fangs when Stiles threw his head back and moaned, hands gripping tight at his biceps. 

"I’m gonna knot you Stiles, I’m gonna mate you and if you don’t want that tell me now."

He shifted, pressing his face into Stiles’s neck, sucking in the heady scent of their mixed arousal, jerking his hips when Stiles locked his thighs about them, heels digging into his ass. Impatient and mewling under him. 

"Mate me now, now Der, c’mon."

His wolf roared in triumph when he slammed home, bottoming out in one rough, hard thrust. Balls slapping against Stiles’s cheeks as the table creaked dangerously. Curling his arms under Stiles’s back and hoisting him up just enough that his hips tilted, sinking ever deeper into that tight, clenching heat. 

"Fuck you’re so damn tight, so perfect for me Stiles."

It almost killed him to stay still, muscles clenching as his thighs trembled, feeling the way Stiles’s body milked at his cock, hot pants breathless at his ear.

"Yeah, ‘m, ‘m good for you."

He sucked in a sharp, surprised breath. Claws curling at Stiles’s back, dragging red welts through black inked skin as his wolf purred in delight, rumbling deep in his chest when Stiles pushed his hips back begging in sweet, high tones for him to ‘move you asshole, move.; 

He moved hard, biting bruisingly, marking and possessive over Stiles’s skin, hips slapping against the younger mans as the table jerked forward and back with his thrusts, scraping along the floor, sounds high and sharp like Stiles’s cries. 

His body was so fucking hot, cock throbbing in his mates ass as he pounded into him, the wet sounds of sex loud in his ears. Pulling up to press wet, harsh kisses to Stiles lips, hips moving punishingly. 

"Next time, fuck, next time you’ll be on your knees. Putting that pretty mouth to good use, be a good boy for me."

And Stiles’s head lolled back, long pale neck, littered with his claim, bared for him as Stiles flushed. Pressing down into his brutual pace, keening for more. 

"Then I’ll make you cum in my mouth, mark you up with my cum, make you pretty and slick with it. God fuck, you’re so fucking perfect. My mate."

"A-all, yours."

He grinned, leering down at the mage as blunt nails bit at his skin, the taste of magic surging in the air. The aching cock trapped between them twitching against his stomach, hot cum painting his abs as Stiles  _screamed,_ tattoo’s swirling and dancing as he came. Face going slack and eyes dark with his orgasm. 

His cock grew, base expanding with each deep plough, jack-hammering into him until his knot was tugging at Stiles’s rim, hissing out each time his mate got tighter and tighter, still riding the waves of his own release.

He came with a howl, head back and fangs sharp. Knot locking them together as his cum filled his mate, pulse after pulse forced deep into him, marking him like no tattoo ever could. 

They slumped together, sticky and hot. The room thick with the smell of sex and sweat, dragging his tongue toughly over the tattoo at Stiles’s chest, slowly lowering his mate to the table, splaying his hand possessively over the wolf at Stles’s hip. 

"Mine."

"For years you possessive ass."

He hid a laugh in Stiles’s collar bone, his wolf sated and smug.

Maybe sometime the universe wasn’t so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE COMMENT AND KUDOS


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